


The Interceptors and the Poorly-Written Kiss

by malcs



Category: The Interceptors, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malcs/pseuds/malcs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title says.</p><p>Steed and St. Hammond kiss.  I didn't write it very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interceptors and the Poorly-Written Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suchanadorer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts).



> I wrote this while desperate for a pee. So. You know. Don't expect much.

Roger St. Hammond was crouched behind a concrete barrier, and for the first time in years, he was pants-wettingly afraid. He turned to face Steed, whose chalk-white face did little to put his mind to rest.

Steed noticed him looking, and contorted his face into a hideous mockery of a smile. It was, Roger was pretty sure, supposed to look reassuring.

“We can do this,” James whispered. He waved his Great Ruddy Enormous Detonation Device and nodded firmly. “We’ve got everything we need.”

“I hope to god you’re right,” Roger whispered back. He smoothed his moustache and gathered his courage. “Steed, if we’re going to die… There’s something I want to do first.”

Steed cocked his eyebrow, and Roger took that as an invitation. He swept his sunglasses off his face and leaned forward. Roger placed two fingers at the corner of Steed’s jaw and pulled him, oh so gently, forward. Roger tilted his head, his eyes jumping from James’ lips to his eyes to his lips again, and stuttered out a breath.

“Roger?” James murmured, lips soft against Roger’s.

Roger answered with a gentle lick to James’ lower lip, before pressing their lips together.

“Jesus,” James said as they pulled apart, eyes wide and impossibly blue behind his specs.

There was a long moment of stillness as Roger hardly dared to breathe.

James cleared his throat and straightened his glasses. Awkwardly, he waved the GREDD. “We’d best get started,” he said.

“James…” Roger trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“Right,” James said determinedly, not looking up. He flicked the switch, waited until the red light was flashing, and jammed his finger down on the big red button.

On the other side of the barrier there was a splash, and rattle, and a very minor explosion.

“MY CAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!” Jason screamed. There was a sound like a large, balding, idiotic man falling to his knees and waving his arms dramatically.

Steed started snickering, Roger started giggling (manfully) through his moustache.

“WHO DID THIS?” Jason bellowed. “BY PAN’S GOATEE I WILL FIND YOU!”

“Run,” Steed said, and, bowing to the absolute wisdom in this command, Roger bravely legged it.

They made it to the back of the Portabase and crawled in through the escape hatch that Steed had installed should a baddie try to lock them in there, and then resized it when they realized that St. Hammond was the only one who could eel through it. Still laughing, they collapsed on the couch.

“About what happened,” Roger said finally.

“Ah yes,” James said, and seized Richard by the ear and yanked him into another kiss, this one with quite a lot of tongue.

-

Rather a lot of time later, Jason stormed into the Portabase. “DID YOU TWO PUT- OH MY GOD!”

Roger pulled off James’ cock with an obscene noise as the door slammed behind Clarkson. “I think we just gave ourselves an alibi,” he said.

James groaned and gestured feebly. “I really, honestly couldn’t care less,” he said.


End file.
